


Planes, Trains, and the Trauma Response

by imgoingtocrash, savvysass



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Beck And His Mind Games Cause Trauma, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Happy Hogan is a Good Bro, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Somatic Response to Trauma, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark/Pepper Potts (Mentioned/Canon Compliant), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22328833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imgoingtocrash/pseuds/imgoingtocrash, https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvysass/pseuds/savvysass
Summary: The world around him is solid. It makes sense. Despite the existence of aliens and literal gods in their galaxy—the science of it all makes sense. They just have yet to figure it all out.Then he’d been thrown into a spiral of falsehoods—one after another, all so fast, all so real—and suddenly he’s in the Netherlands. It’s too nice compared to the horrors he became used to—a far cry from the real world: a world of dead parents, dead uncles, and half of a universe, dead with the snap of one creature’s fingers.Where once there was certainty…now there’s fragility.So, when he sees Tony step out of the plane instead of Happy…he falters.OR: Tony appears during Far From Home. Not much changes, but some things do. At the very least, Peter gets cared for in the wake of a barrage of traumatic events.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 94
Kudos: 711





	Planes, Trains, and the Trauma Response

**Author's Note:**

> [imgoingtocrash](https://imgoingtocrash.tumblr.com/) \-- This fic was a wonderfully fun collab with savvysass, and I'm so excited to share it. We talk about IronDad a lot, and this is a true expression of our love of angst and whump that all came from one little idea. It's not a complete rewrite of the movie, just a few things that might've been, if Tony had lived. To Sav--thank you for putting up with my run-on sentences and for going off topic with me. This fic is ours, and I'm so, so proud of it.
> 
> [savvysass](https://savvysass.tumblr.com/) \-- Ahhhh my first marvel fic! So excited! So glad to do this with my lovely friend! Look for my upcoming fic that I’m rewriting the first few chapters of. It’ll be a hell of a show!

Peter thought he was better than Beck’s illusions. Smarter. Peter knows how the world around him works. He knows the way atoms vibrate to create kinetic energy, how every minuscule line of code brings Karen to life, the ways in which his biology is unique—beyond human in a way no one on Earth may ever be able to fully understand.

The world around him is solid. It makes sense. Despite the existence of aliens and literal gods in their galaxy—the science of it all makes sense. They just have yet to figure it all out.

Then he’d been thrown into a spiral of falsehoods—one after another, all so fast, all so real—and suddenly he’s in the Netherlands. It’s too nice compared to the horrors he became used to—a far cry from the real world: a world of dead parents, dead uncles, and half of a universe, dead with the snap of one creature’s fingers.

Where once there was certainty…now there’s fragility.

So, when he sees Tony step out of the plane instead of Happy…he falters. 

“No. No, no, I saw—you’re not—no.” He feels his limbs shaking beneath him, the field of tulips around him so tall—waiting to envelop him, take him over, take him away into the next horror. May silenced under Beck’s hands with a single crack of her neck, MJ falling, falling, falling, Tony dying, his arm mutilated beyond repair, the light of the arc reactor fading out, his heart stopping, Peter heard his heart _stop_ —

“Pete? Buddy? You okay?” The man in front of Peter shakes his head, coming down the stairs of the jet two at a time. This must be an illusion—a nightmare waiting to play out, waiting for Peter to fall in. Tony is back at the cabin with Morgan and Pepper… No, he’s dead. Peter watched him die, didn’t he? 

“Of course you’re not okay, stupid question. How bad is it? Concussion? Anything broken?”

Peter shakes his head, trying to shake this vision away—this reality that he can’t trust. 

“Please, please no. Not again, I can’t—not again, please.”

Tony reaches the ground with a hesitant step towards Peter, his facial features scrunched in confusion. 

“Peter, what—” Something dawns on his face, then, confusion morphing into something like understanding. As if he could know the things Peter’s seen, the things he can’t know to be true. 

“Peter, you’re okay. At least, I think you are. Ninety-five percent sure. No need to panic, okay? It’s just you and me. Happy’s in the plane. You called, remember?” He takes a step closer, but Peter shakes his head, taking another back. “Hey—easy, Pete. You’re in—I can’t pronounce it—somewhere in the Netherlands. We’re just here to help. You know I’d never hurt you.”

“You’re dead,” Peter says shakily. “I watched you—MJ fell and she died, and then the light in the reactor went out, and—and I _saw_ —”

“Jesus—okay. I know that Beck has EDITH, kiddo. He’s abusing her and everything she knows about you. Another grudge against me being taken out on you—shocker, I know.” Tony sighs. “Look, whatever he showed you, it’s not real. _I’m_ real. I’m right here, because you needed me.”

Peter takes a breath. He looks at the man in front of him, so different from the mentor he first met all those years ago. His hair is a lighter brown, the strands blended with grey neatly woven into his usual coif. Rather than the sharp suits of old, Tony’s wearing what Peter’s come to know better in the last six months—a soft sweater and dark wash jeans, the sleeve of one hiding most of a mechanical arm, a thing of their own design.

These are things he recognizes—things he remembers. That has to be reality: nights spent in the hospital, slowly watching Tony’s recovery. Peter falling asleep at the man’s bedside, the still-working hand buried in his curls. Months at the cabin before school started back; days of slinging Morgan around the lake. A summer that felt like it would never end.

Yet he still needs proof—Beck’s illusions are haunting him and making his brain mush.

“Prove it.”

“Prove it?”

Peter nods. “Say something. Something only you would know.” His desperation must come across loud and clear, because Tony’s face softens.

“Okay. Yeah, I can do that.” Tony puts up his hands, as if in surrender, taking another step to close the gap between them. “You’re—you’re allergic to hazelnuts. One time I gave you Nutella on your stupidly overcooked toast, and that was thankfully the first and only time I’ve had to stab you with an epipen. Speaking of breakfast, you always pour the milk in before the cereal. Morgan hates watching you do that. She thinks it’s a crime against God. I’m inclined to agree with her, no offense.”

Peter feels his eyes start to water.

“Last month you asked me to get a dog. Again. You saw a golden retriever in the park and it was so cute you almost started crying. Your Uncle Ben—Coney Island was your place. You used to go there every summer and ride the roller coasters until you puked. You told me he never made you feel like less—not because of your asthma, or your allergies, or the fact that you were still building Legos and model kits at thirteen years old like the absolutely wonderful nerd that you are.”

Tony is getting closer, and Peter can practically feel the pull—the want to let the visions go, to let his fear disappear because Tony really is here, and Beck can’t take that away. Peter won’t let him.

With a smile, Tony continues. “When you were eight years old, you went to Stark Expo, and you were brave.” Tony puts his hands on Peter’s shoulders, his thumbs strong as they dig into Peter’s collarbones. “You’re so _brave_ , Pete. You stood up to one of Hammer’s drones and tried to shoot it down, and this lame guy in a tin can ended up stealing your shot instead.”

They share a smile at that, eyes both a little watery now.

“And even after all that—after you met me so many years later, after you saw what a mess I still was after all that time, you still—” Tony moves a hand up, cupping Peter’s cheek. “I watched you die on Titan. I held you in my arms while you begged me to fix everything, and I couldn’t save you. When I brought you back after five years, I promised—” Tony gives Peter a squeeze on the word. “I _promised_ you that I wasn’t letting you go. Never again.”

Tony’s eyes bare into him with such love and conviction, Peter feels momentarily paralyzed. 

“I’m right here, Peter. It’s okay. I’m alive, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Peter nods, the action turning into a shaky, repetitive thing, accepting when Tony’s arms surround him, returning the embrace with force. The pressure to hold it all together—the responsibility to be the next Tony Stark, the next Iron Man, the amazing Spider-Man—it all shatters with a harsh sob.

“Okay, okay, it’s okay,” Tony comforts. Peter’s leg goes from throbbing uncomfortably to practically giving out underneath him, but Tony takes Peter’s extra weight admirably. “Easy, buddy. We’re okay. How about we get out of here, huh?”

Peter nods into the soft, woven material of Tony’s sweater, probably covering it with snot and tears. If Tony notices it leaking onto his shoulder, he ignores it, shouting “Fire it up, Hap!” at the plane as they slowly limp themselves towards the stairs. “It’s all gonna be okay, Pete. Don’t worry.”

The comforting words may not be an instant salve, but as Peter keeps himself tucked into the safety of his mentor’s arms rather than let go for the seconds it takes to get onto the plane, for the first time in this endeavor, Peter believes things are at the very least looking up.

* * *

Tony is pretty sure he hasn’t seen anything as pitiful as Peter Parker, tear-streaked and badly beaten, since the compound battlefield—save for a very adorably sick Morgan, begging for Tony’s attention and a plethora of cuddles.

Then he lets go of the kid to find the med kit and finds him puking in the on-plane bathroom two seconds later, the sounds of his spit-up hitting the bowl echoing through the cabin, and it’s suddenly not pitiful. Now it’s bordering more on terrifying.

He shoots around the corner to the plane’s lavatory, thankful that Peter’s abandoned privacy in favor of getting everything out of his system as quickly as possible. Tony groans as he drops to his knees, his worry putting his old bones on the backburner for the moment. He takes up what little extra space there is next to the toilet to offer a nervous rub to Peter’s back. “Jesus, kid, it’s always something with you, huh?”

It’s not exactly a good sign, especially when Peter didn’t give them the whole story. Peter didn’t get beat to hell like this from a few illusions. Puking could mean a concussion, internal injuries…too many things he doesn’t have the ability to treat right now, but would probably need immediate attention.

“Can you tell me what happened? Should I be calling Cho?” He asks tightly. Not that Cho could do much, remotely. Tell him what to check for, maybe. At the very least, he knows that the medkit on board has most of what he might need for situations like this.

Suddenly, Peter starts giggling. Then he lets out a few barks of laughter. Tony scrunches his brow in confusion.

“Kid? What—”

“I think I—maybe I got hit by a train?” He says through chuckles, his voice pitching up in question at the end.

Tony thinks his heart stops.

“I—Maybe?!” He blanches as his voice reaches a pitch that borders on his most parental. “How do you—what do you mean _maybe_?!.” 

Tony immediately brings in the medkit, his hands trembling as he goes through the contents. He doesn’t even know what he’s really looking for. Painkillers? Maybe if there’s holdovers of Steve’s. He can tell Peter’s leg is bothering him, but he’s pretty sure the kid would be screaming instead of laughing if it were broken.

“I can’t believe you’re laughing about this,” Tony says in bewilderment, at the very least digging out the disinfectant and stitching supplies. Blood is leaking out of Peter from multiple spots. There must be _something_ he can patch up.

The kid’s laughter has seemingly died down, as well as the nausea. He has the distinct displeasure of looking into the toilet, and seeing no blood, determines he should probably move Peter somewhere else for treatment. 

“Alright, squirt, up and at ‘em.” He says as smoothly as he can to hide his inner panic. Then he second guesses himself. “Can you stand?”

Peter shrugs a little. He looks smaller crowded into the tiny bathroom. His age. God, Peter’s still only seventeen. Tony sighs, steeling himself for the task of caring for Peter in this state. He’s going to kill Fury for dragging his kid into this mess.

He tries to reach an arm around Peter, but receives a hiss in response. 

“Shit, sorry.” He moves his hand a little lower, this time purposefully prodding around Peter’s ribs. No bones give under his touch, but the mottled skin is certain to turn a rainbow of colors, even with Peter’s enhanced healing.

“M’okay,” is Peter’s response, naturally. Tony doesn’t buy it for a second, deciding pulling under Peter’s underarms is probably the safest course of action.

“Nothing about this is okay,” Tony says. “On three. One, two, three.” On the last number, Peter uses his better leg to steady himself, off of his knees and against Tony as a support again. Under their feet, the gentle hum of the jet’s engines vibrate the cabin. Happy’s gotten them into the air, at least.

He leads Peter out of the bathroom and into the aisle, taking on the majority of his weight. “What’s the plan, kid, because I’m thinking—”

Tony hears a sniffle in response, then feels the shake of Peter’s shoulders against his hands. He looks down to see tears streaking down the boy’s cheeks.

“Pete—Hey. What’s wrong?” He says worriedly, leading Peter into the seat as he kneels in front of the now sobbing child. This feels a bit like caring for Morgan too, getting onto her level to disperse Band-aids and soothe aches with kisses.

“I don—I don’t kn—know…I—I can’t stop—I can’t—” Peter wipes at his eyes, his features confused as the tears mix into the streaks of drying blood on his hands. “I’ve b-been hurt before, this is—sorry, I—it’s dumb, I just—” 

“Shh, Pete, I know,” Tony says softly. “It’s not dumb, it’s just…stuff happens when we get hurt. Your body is probably freaking out after taking such a hard blow.”

“Beck, he...Mister Stark, we have to—!”

“Hold on—let’s get this all sorted out first.” He grabs a water from the mini-fridge and hands it to Peter. "Take a breath. What happened?”

Peter takes a breath, stuttering out the past few days’ events as he tries to calm down. Tony’s blood is boiling by the end of his story. Beck’s motive for vengeance against Tony is nothing new, but taking his rage out on a child, on _Peter_ —

“If you already know about Beck, then you know what he can do with EDITH in his hands. I’ve screwed up enough, Mister Stark, we can’t let him hurt anyone else.”

“Okay, okay. Look, what happened with Beck...he tricked you, plain and simple. That doesn’t mean you have to just jump back into it. You’re injured, you’re upset—”

“That doesn’t matter! Not to him!”

Tony breathes in, steady in the midst of Peter’s storm. “It matters to me.”

Only the sounds of the plane still maintaining its place in the sky are between them. Tony takes the opportunity to start stitching up Peter’s shoulder. The pain medication would knock him out, so Tony takes Peter’s silence as approval to go ahead without it.

Tony gets through two stitches before a heavy sigh breaks the silence, Happy’s presence suddenly in the cabin. “Boss, where are we going? We’ve been hovering over this tulip field since the kid started puking, and I think the locals are starting to notice.”

“We’re going home,” Tony declares. Despite the needle currently holding two pieces of his skin together, Peter tries to jump up. “Sit. _Still_ ,” Tony chides. He’s unable to fight the kid on strength alone, but the authoritative tone seems to do the trick.

“Mister Stark, you heard what I said! He’s going to kill them!”

“That doesn’t make it your responsibility to stop him,” Tony says forcefully, tying the knot on his stitch-work probably a little too hard. “I can call people—hell, any other New York-based superhero you want! Daredevil, Punisher—”

“They won’t be fast enough! He’s already on his way!” Peter shouts. “Mister Stark, no one knows this guy like I do. I know how his tech works now. If I can take out EDITH’s drones, I can take him down. I know it.”

Tony crosses his arms. “I don’t like this.”

“I know.”

“It could end badly.”

“I know.”

“...You’re gonna need a suit,” Tony relents. He knew this was a losing battle, deep down. He loves Peter’s caring nature for others most of all. Of course he wants to be the one to save his friends. And despite his fear for Peter...Tony will be so proud to watch him do it.

As their eyes lock, a familiar electricity runs between them. One only kindred spirits can understand.

“So?” Happy asks, despite likely knowing the answer.

“Beck isn’t the only one that can track a few kids’ phones,” Tony answers. “FRIDAY, find Happy the coordinates. Meanwhile…” Tony abandons his makeshift workstation, stepping to the pilot’s seat and pressing one of the buttons. _Back In Black_ blares over the speakers.

“Oh, I love Led Zeppelin!”

Tony rolls his eyes, unsure if Peter’s teasing him or if the kid really can’t identify AC/DC after working in the lab to Tony’s classic rock playlists for so long. Then he taps the button next to the music cue. “If you like that, you’re gonna love this.” The back of the plane opens like an iris, revealing a holographic workstation, including one of the printers to bring any suit to life.

“Woah.”

“Nice, right?” He makes a sweeping gesture to the equipment. “And Pep says I take too many precautions.”

“No, this is—Wow, Mister Stark. Wow. It’s perfect.” Peter instantly moves to the handprint access panel, causing the holographic controls to open to one of their last projects. He swipes through the controls with ease. He only notices Tony’s not at his side when he has the schematics for his spidey suits at his fingertips. He looks at the man expectantly.

“You’ve got this, Pete,” Tony says, hoping it echoes his pride, his concern, the combined joy and fear of watching Peter move on as a hero without him. Peter blinks before nodding and moving forward with determination.

Happy has stood back up from the pilot’s seat, seemingly just so that he can tap against Tony’s arm with his own, a matching look of pride on his face.

“He’s a good kid,” Happy states, both of them watching the way Peter is bopping his head along to the beat as he mumbles project notes under his breath.

“The best,” Tony affirms.

* * *

Tony doesn’t mean to catch Peter and MJ’s first kiss. It just sort of works out that way.

MJ had been the first one out the door of the Tower of London with a mace still tightly gripped in her hand, but Tony had been a close second. He trusted Happy to get the other kids back to their class (even the little squirt intent on _vlogging_ their entire experience), but he’s also not as spry as he used to be. Between losing an arm and years of past injuries...his trek to find Peter on the Tower Bridge involves quite a few breaks to catch his breath and to settle his heart.

When he makes it to the bridge, he sees Peter hobbling through the wreckage. The kid looks beat to shit, and something tightens in Tony’s chest at the sight of it. He is about to call out to him when MJ rushes to meet him, the teens embracing each other desperately.

So no, Tony does not mean to spy on the kid’s first kiss, but it is one hell of a sweet moment. MJ leans down to kiss him, the kid freezing like the world just stopped turning. Tony can’t hear what MJ says to him, but the look of utter adoration on Peter’s face when she finishes is sweet enough to induce cavities. 

It’s the kind of first love Tony never had for himself: new and untouched by the chaos surrounding them. The second kiss is a hesitant thing, a bit of an awkward dance between them, barely another peck. They both seem to enjoy it, however, because the final kiss is braver, a little longer, and MJ’s hand ends up cupping Peter’s cheek.

As they break apart, Peter seems to spot him, sending over an awkward wave. MJ turns around at that too, and if he was closer, the tilt of her head would probably showcase a blush. (He remembers her admittance to hiding her emotions back at the Tower...and he can certainly relate.)

MJ and Peter break apart as inelegantly as they came together, their goodbyes punctuated with MJ retrieving her mace and Peter doing the cutest little skip of excitement over to Tony despite his previously injured leg.

Tony immediately takes as much of Peter’s weight as he can, watching out for both the sore spots of before and any new injuries sustained by the confrontation with Beck.

There’s a beat of silence.

“So.” Tony grins. “You and MJ, huh?”

“Mister Stark,” Peter groans, but his smile is practically splitting across his face.

“I’m just saying, she seems like a good catch. Smart as a whip, mean strike with a mace, pretty accepting of your secret superhero identity…”

Tony knew there was something going on with his mentee—he’d just been up at the cabin with Pepper and Morgan since Peter went back to school, so he hadn’t been able to see the way Peter looks at MJ before now.

“Seriously, though, Pete. I’m happy for you.” There’s another moment of silence as the two of them traverse around a particularly large chunk of concrete in the middle of the street.

“I know you want to know what happened with Beck,” Peter sighs, grunting as an apparent injury near his ribs pulls.

“I do. Did Fury cuff him and his people? I kind of expected you to drag him out yourself after the whole hitting-you-with-a-train thing.”

“No, h-he’s...” Peter looks around them, towards the Shard, at the destruction. Anything but meeting Tony’s gaze. “He’s…he’s dead.”

“Did you—?”

“No—Well, not on purpose. Stray bullets.”

That’s not the whole story. Tony knows Peter now, possibly better than he ever did before the Snap. After that debacle, it’d been pulling teeth to get the kid to talk about his nightmares. The events with Beck will have to be tabled for another time.

“And EDITH?”

“Here.” Peter holds up the torn remains of his mask, the smart glasses nestled between the fabric. “I got her back. Complete control.” He shrugs a little sheepishly. “Lost most of the drones, though.”

“We can build new drones, kiddo. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He gives Peter’s shoulder a few firm pats for comfort. He feels Peter shaking. “You _are_ okay, right kid?”

“Just-Just after-battle jitters,” Peter assures him, but Tony can see the anxiety in his eyes. He puts a hand on his back and leads him off the bridge.

“Where are we going, Mister Stark? I’m still in this suit and—my suitcase is, um. Gone.”

“We’re going to the hotel I booked for us and for your classmates. It’ll be enough until I can get us a plane back home.” Tony scans the streets around them, thankfully spotting a little tourist trap close by. “As for your clothes…”

“No,” Peter begs half-heartedly. “Not the tourist outfit again! Aunt May won’t let me throw away those Hello Kitty pajama pants.”

Tony picks out a t-shirt with the Union Jack bedazzled on the front, sparkling in the sunlight. Peter shoves it away in favor of a more tasteful _Doctor Who_ sweatshirt.

“You can’t lie to me, Parker. I know you sleep in those pants all the time. They’re a luxury. Dare I say, your very favorite gift from me, ever.”

“You’re the worst.” The bottoms for the spider-suit are still a dead giveaway, so they compromise on a pair of sweatpants that are normal except for the calligraphy of Taylor Swift’s lyrics down the leg that read _you know I love a London boy._

Tony takes a wad of bills from his wallet and shoves it into what’s left of the cash register, not bothering to count them. Let the proprietor figure out the exchange rates; he’s got an injured Spider-kid to worry about.

They make surprisingly good time, considering the surrounding area is filled with first responders and SHIELD-adjacent personnel trying to clean up the mess. The hotel is a Hilton not too far from the Thames, and despite their roughed up appearance, the check-in staff gives Tony and Peter nothing but a sympathetic look, allowing them to head up to the hotel’s penthouse suite without another word.

By the elevator, they’re caught by Ned and MJ, which is actually an incredibly thankful sight. Tony worried his rushed gift to the Midtown students would be seen as another convenient but ultimately disastrous offer and that the teachers would end up going literally anywhere else.

“Peter!” Ned calls out, running into the kid with enough force to unsteady Tony on his feet too. “Thank God, dude. MJ told me you were okay, but then you didn’t come back with her, and Mister Stark and Happy were gone too, and—”

“Easy, Ted,” Tony says, backing away to give the boys their prolonged hug. “We’re all good. Well, Avengers-level good. Which is usually somewhere around a five out of ten, depending on the disaster. No nukes, no ugly purple aliens…”

“We get it, Mister Stark,” Peter chuckles, separating from Ned and catching MJ’s eye.

“Nice outfit, loser,” MJ comments, scanning Peter’s tourist getup head to toe. She smiles as she says it, though, so Tony gets the impression that this is part of their dynamic.

“Hm? Oh, yeah it’s—yeah. Taylor Swift, you know?”

God, his kid really is kind of a hopeless mess. MJ isn’t phased, though, just nods along and brings Peter in for another hug, and Ned joins in on this one too.

“Craziest. Field trip. Ever.” Ned states as the hug disperses. “Peter, your life is insane, and I get to be your guy in the chair for it. So wild.”

“I think the MOMA trip still beats it,” Peter says with a laugh, and Tony scoffs.

“Does that count if we never actually made it off the bus?” Ned begins to rant, “Because I think—”

“Alright, alright. Reunion over. I’m sufficiently heart-warmed, but Pete here needs some medical attention, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” MJ agrees. “You look like crap, Parker.”

“Thanks?” Peter replies. As the conversation has been going on, Tony’s noticed Peter’s bad leg shaking a little, so he knows they need to get the kid sitting and in the hands of an on-call doctor sooner rather than later.

“God, it really is like looking in a mirror, sometimes,” Tony grumbles, briefly thinking of Pepper at home and the way she would have reamed him out with the same cutting honesty if he were the one coming back from fighting Beck looking like Peter does. The joke goes over all of the kids heads, and he lets it. “C’mon, kiddies, disperse. Order room service, live the high life on my dime, etcetera. Don’t order any dirty movies, though. Happy always checks the bills for room charges, and he’s a judge-er.”

“ _Mister Stark_ ,” Peter growls, thoroughly embarrassed at the subtle call-out.

Tony wraps his arm around Peter’s back again, taking the kid’s weight. “Seriously. Enjoy yourselves. Decompress. I’ll take care of Peter.”

MJ eyes Tony for a second, gaze serious. “You better.”

“I really _do_ like her,” Tony quips, grinning at the blush of red on Peter’s cheeks as they turn towards the elevator.

* * *

Being treated by the on-call doctor is different than being treated by Doctor Cho, or even when Doctor Banner examined his DNA once after the Snap brought everyone back.

This doctor is on loan from Fury’s personnel, but she’s kind in a way a lot of the other agents he’s met so far are not. Maybe it has something to do with bedside manner. He doesn’t know.

What he does know is that the post-battle adrenaline is fading. To be honest, his energy started going down almost immediately after Beck died and the drone threat was eliminated. MJ’s kiss and Tony’s support were about the only two things holding him together until now.

“He’s one tough kid, I’ll give him that,” the medic mutters, the StarkPad in front of her lit up with every scan EDITH and FRIDAY could perform without a complete medical suite.

“The toughest,” Mister Stark replies. He’s situated himself at Peter’s side on the king-sized bed that they’ve practically turned into a hospital bed, complete with an IV of super-strength pain medication and the biggest mobile first aid kit Peter’s ever seen spread out at his feet.

“I’m grateful for the superhero drugs,” the medic sighs, brushing her hair back out of her face. Other than a little blood on her clothing, she seems pretty unharmed by the events of the day. “He’ll need them. Even with his healing ability, the list of injuries is as long as my arm.”

Peter sighs, attempting to adjust on the mattress again. No part of his body is comfortable anymore—and with good reason. He’d stripped down to a pair of boxers for the initial medical examination and Tony had literally gasped at the rainbow of colors covering Peter’s body. Bruising, bloody cuts… 

“Let’s hear it. You’ll make Mister Stark worry too much if you don’t tell him exactly what’s wrong.”

“Hey,” Tony says, indignant. He doesn’t argue the point, though.

“Well, let’s start with what will heal quickly—the cuts are mostly superficial. I can’t imagine them lasting the night, based on his past medical charts.” Peter can imagine exactly what his files say—he used to treat himself more often than not, but one time May caught him after a little stabbing, and suddenly Karen was constantly routing him to the Tower for a check-up after patrols almost every night.

“There are a couple of bullet grazes—I saw the fire power on those drones; he’s frankly lucky it’s only a few.” The medic puts down the StarkPad for a moment, coming to where Peter’s head is rested and feeling her fingers around in his hair. He winces as she touches a few sore spots. “There was absolutely some blunt force trauma, but I’m not too worried about a concussion unless he starts experiencing any nausea or confusion.”

At her questioning eyebrow to Tony, he answers for Peter. “A little, but it was hours ago, and there hasn’t been any since.” The doctor nods.

“After that, we get into the more serious injuries. I can’t predict how quickly they’ll heal—what’s more important is that they do so properly.” The medic places her cold hands against Peter’s hip, unsurprised when his response is a guttural groan. “That’s what we call a hip pointer. He has a bruise on his iliac crest—probably from a bad fall.”

“Or from being hit by a train…” Peter mumbles. The medic narrows her eyes in response, less surprised than he thought she’d be. Then again, she’s SHIELD, or whatever it is they’re calling themselves these days.

“Or that.”

“Explains the limp,” Tony comments.

“Matches his other bruises, too, though I’m not as worried about the recovery on those. He has a few bruised ribs, even cracked a few. He knows the drill on that front though, as I’m sure you do as well, Mister Stark.”

Tony nods, moving one of his hands to hold Peter’s, either as a show of comfort or in superhero injury solidarity.

“In addition to the hip pointer, he seems to have hyper extended this leg as well. That will take some physical therapy to get back in control.” The medic digs around in her Mary Poppins-esque kit of wonder, producing a packaged brace, similar to the braces he’s seen volleyball players wear. “Until you get back to the States, I’d suggest wearing this at all times.”

“We learned about the RICE method in health class,” Peter assures. Tony rolls his eyes, but the medic seems amused, at least.

“The most important part being _rest_ ,” the medic presses, packing away her gauze and antiseptic. “You’ve gone through...a lot, Spider-Man. Your body and your mind are recovering from a great deal of trauma, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the comedown from that requires treatment of its own.”

Peter blatantly ignores the look that Tony gives him from the side, likely thinking about his earlier crying fit on the plane.

She’s not the first to recommend “treatment” of some kind for the things he’s experienced. Tony always talks about therapy like it did him wonders despite his initial reluctance, but Peter’s never been convinced enough to try it. Because he’s fine. He’s always fine. Nightmares are normal, his...tingle, or whatever going haywire, for a while, normal. If there was something to be concerned about, he would know, right? It’s just stress. Normal stress.

“Got it,” Peter affirms, glossing over the end of her speech.

Predictably, Tony is more firm. “He’s not leaving this bed. Might even get him a catheter. You got the supplies for that lying around in that bag of yours?”

“Ew!”

“Okay, maybe not that, but I’ll be here all night. Kid’ll get home to his aunt in one piece. Plus, my place is great for long-term recovery. I would know. Not to mention, Morgan would love to see you, kiddo.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Peter finds himself replying a little listlessly. The day’s events must be hitting him along with the super drugs. They take a bit longer to kick in, but they’re a pretty powerful sleep aid once they start working.

“Thanks so much, Doc,” Tony says, leaving Peter on the bed to walk the medic out of the hotel room.

“Feel better, Peter,” the medic stops herself for a second, to add, “And thank you for everything you did, Spider-Man.”

After closing the door, Tony lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Well, that was a day.” He returns to Peter’s bedside, slinging an arm over Peter’s shoulders where he’s propped against a mound of pillows. “What are you feeling? Food? Sleep? Happy will be coming by with clothes for us later, and I’m sure your Aunt would love to hear from you, once you’re feeling up to it.”

At Tony’s comforting touch, Peter feels a bit like he’s melting. Disintegrating. He doesn’t know why his mentor’s warmth is what does it, but Peter feels himself crack. He turns into the man, hoping he can hide from the mess of his mind by curling further into Tony’s torso.

“Pete?” Tony asks, his voice taking on that concerned-parental tone. “You good?”

“I-I don’t know,” Peter replies. “S’just...a lot, thinking about it.”

“Oh, Peter,” Tony hums, rubbing Peter’s arm over the pilfered _Doctor Who_ t-shirt from earlier that he’d put back on. The hotel room was surprisingly cold. Must be, since he was shivering.

A tear falls from his eye, and Peter doesn’t have the emotional strength to even try and stop it. Still, he mumbles “Sorry, I just—sorry.”

“No apologizing, Peter,” Tony comforts. “How many times to I have to say that, huh? This shirt is kid-tear absorbent. Made for it.”

“Liar,” Peter croaks, but it gets him to smile shakily anyway. “I tried so hard to—I didn’t want it to end like that. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“I know.”

“It’s just—I wanted to be on my own. I wanted to prove myself, but—it wasn’t that long ago, Mister Stark. None of it, and I wanted one trip. One stupid, n-normal trip where I could be myself away from Spider-Man, away from that feeling of losing you when I thought you’d—”

“Fury shouldn’t have dragged you into this. You weren’t ready.”

Peter sobs. “But I should be! I-I’m Spider-Man! I should be able to get over that. But I’m still stuck all the time! I’m still under that building, and on Titan, and watching you die right in front of me, and I can’t do anything about it, and it sucks!”

Tony lets Peter ramble into his shirt, the wet patch under Peter’s face apparently not phasing him at all. “Pete, you know things after New York weren’t easy for me. And Jesus, after losing you. After everything with Thanos…”

“But it didn’t st-stop you. You never had to take a break or-or run from Fury.”

Tony snorts. “Do you think you invented screening Fury’s calls? Peter, this is temporary. You just wanted a break, and that’s okay. You’re still learning, and growing, and you are allowed to stop and take a breath. The only reason I never did was because I felt like I _couldn’t_ , and that’s not right, Pete. It’s not.”

Peter sniffles as he takes a shaky breath.

“Peter, this is how you’re going to be better than me. You already are. Working through this shit...it’s always gonna be ten times better than bottling it up.” Tony tilts up Peter’s chin, meeting his gaze. “I know it was scary, almost losing me, but if you had, you would’ve made it through. You would have survived all on your own, because you are a hero that is brave and strong and resilient as hell. That doesn’t mean you have to do this alone, because I am right here, by your side, until you don’t want me anymore.”

Peter doesn’t say it, but he grips Tony’s sweater tighter, thinking, _Never gonna happen_.

“And so is your Aunt May, and Happy, your friends—even Pepper and Morgan. Hell, if I called any of the other Avengers right now, they’d put their butts on the line for you in a heartbeat. But you didn’t need them this time. When you do, they’ll be there too, okay?”

“Yeah.” Peter thinks this would be the perfect time to get himself under control, but another sob comes out, and he doesn’t know why. It feels like he’s overfull—of emotions, of tears—and the only way he’ll ever get over all of this is to let them out. “God, this sucks, I don’t know why I’m so—”

“Like she said, you’ve been through a lot. Just let it out. No one’s here but you and me. It’s okay. Do what you need to do, and then maybe you can get some sleep.” 

He takes a stuttering breath, wincing when it causes a throbbing in his skull. He buries his face deeper into his mentor’s chest.

“Just take it easy, Pete.” Tony says as he starts to rub at the base of Peter’s neck. Peter feels his muscles loosen in response. He can’t stop shaking though, and it’s driving him crazy.

“Here.” Tony maneuvers them both down, situating the covers so that they’re covering Peter in a blanket bundle. “Better?” Both of them have recognized by now that the shaking isn’t because of the room’s temperature, but Peter tugs Tony closer anyway, nodding into his chest.

Rather than leave them both in silence, Tony shouts a command to FRIDAY, the AI turning the television on to run in the background. Peeking over the covers shows him a glimpse of some kind of baking show rather than the news coverage of the day’s events that he expected.

As if reading his mind, Tony pushes down on Peter’s head, turning it into an excuse to run a hand through Peter’s messy hair. His first order of business tomorrow will definitely be maneuvering himself into a shower. “Sleep, Peter.”

“Not tired…” He mumbles, his adrenaline crash quickly proving him wrong as he stifles a yawn.

“Yeah, okay, _Morgan_ ,” Tony teases, a quiet laugh rumbling under Peter’s ear. “Goodnight, kiddo.”

“Night,” Peter replies, submitting to the exhausting events of the day, the warmth of the bed, and the consistent sound of Tony’s heart beating away under his ear.

* * *

Peter’s leg is currently elevated on a cushion, the rest of his body resting on the couch in the Starks’ living room. He is _so tired_ of resting in the Starks’ living room.

“Tony, I’m fine!” Peter insists, crossing his arms and huffing as his mentor rounds the couch and places a bowl of popcorn in Peter’s lap. “I don’t have to rest and elevate anymore! I can walk on it!”

“Mostly,” Tony amends. “I still see it bothering you when you go up the stairs. Also, don’t call me Tony just to get what you want from me. It feels exploitative.”

“Yeah, Petey, it’s expl-explo—” Morgan scrunches her face up, a mirror-image of Tony when he’s trying to figure something out. “Exploitative.” She rewards herself for the pronunciation with an overflowing handful of popcorn kernels, half of which land on the floor.

“You don’t even know what that means, Mo,” Peter grumbles petulantly, shoving popcorn into his own mouth and ignoring Tony’s smug look that screams the parental stance of being both in charge and right.

“Pete, you can go on your date. I will drive you back into the city myself, and MJ can mock my expensive soccer mom car to her heart’s content. I’m just saying if you’re going to spend all day tomorrow swinging around the city, you should take it easy today.”

“But Tony—” Peter whines, okay, yeah, he’s whining, but he’s desperate.

“Look!” Morgan cries, bouncing up and down in excitement, slapping at Peter’s uninjured foot. “Petey’s on TV!” 

The TV screen changes to a breaking news report with Spider-Man behind the anchor. The room watches with rapt attention as Beck’s image floods the screen, Peter’s chest tightening with every word.

_“Spider-Man’s real name… is Peter Parker!”_

As his face fills the screen, the room falls into silence. The sound of a plate crashing on the floor causes everyone to jump, and they turn to see Pepper standing over a mess of what once were nachos as she stares at the television.

Her brow shifts from confused and shocked to outright pissed. “What the fu—!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments, kudos, etc. are always appreciated! If you have any questions or just want to chat IronDad with us, you can follow us tumblr using the links in the top author's note!


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